The way she looked at him. He simply adjusted his hold on her waist, keeping the rhythm, letting the music carry them through the performance.
That was what this was. A performance. The famiglia surrounded them, their voices blending into a warm, celebratory hum. Glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and somewhere behind them stood the towering anniversary cake, decorated in absurd elegance, waiting to be cut.
A weekend of celebration. A retreat. A dinner. A party. They had turned a year of nothing into an event.
It had been two days since he last spoke to Veronica. Two days of silence that didn't sit right.
Her number hadn't been going through. At first, it had irritated him. Then it had unsettled him.
He had called Marco. Marco had assured him she was fine. Probably sulking. Probably being dramatic.
Probably punishing him for leaving. His jaw tightened slightly as he spun Bianca smoothly, catching her hand again as she turned back into him.
